Kharl laughed. “He also told you to avoid telling people what they don’t want to hear.”
“Sometimes.” Norgen took a sip of his ale, then tilted his head slightly. “You would understand. The lord-chancellor might. Lord Ghrant would not.” He offered a faint smile and took another sip of ale.
Kharl thought he understood. “The armsmen don’t see why all this is necessary. In the end, whoever rules, their situation will be the same. They might stand a better chance of getting paid by Lord Ghrant, but they also might think they stand a greater chance of getting killed. Is that it?”
“Close enough. Most armsmen serve because they’ve little choice in life. True of many of the officers, too. Lands go to the eldest, and that leaves being a guard officer or going into trade. Sons of lords have this worry about trade. It′s … unbecoming. Me … never saw how honestly making or selling something of use to others was unbecoming. But I’m better with a mount and blade than with figures or crafting.” Norgen broke off as the serving girl, painfully thin, returned with two large bowls and a basket heaped with dark bread still warm from the ovens.
As Kharl watched her approach, he saw that the two justicers, or magistrates or whatever they had been, had left the small dining room.
“Here you are, sers. Would you like more ale?”
Kharl realized his mug was almost empty. He hadn’t been aware of drinking so much, good as the ale had tasted. “Yes, please.”
“I’ve enough, thank you,” added Norgen.
Once she departed, Kharl cleared his throat. “You were saying about officers …”
“I was.” Norgen waited again.
“All but the most senior feel like their armsmen? That rebellion is meaningless to them, and they’d prefer to survive it with the fewest casualties?”
“Many feel that way, or so it’s said. Why are you so interested in that, ser mage?”
“I’m trying to think of a way to end the rebellion that won′t blind me for life and won’t kill thousands of armsmen and their officers.”
“You do that, and you’d have many happy troops. Happier officers.” Norgen snorted. “That’d be true magery.” He took a mouthful of stew. After eating for a time, he added, “Not bad. Glad you dragged me in here.”
Kharl was, too. The stew, if slightly too peppery, was hot and filling, and he could use the nourishment. He also had a feeling, or part of one … about what he could do … if he could just figure out how to present it to Hagen. “It seemed the thing to do. I don’t know much about armsmen and lancers. I know more about trade and barrels, and even sailing.”
“At times, I wish I did.”
“You didn’t want to be a lancer?”
“It was the best choice open to me. My father was a cabinetmaker. After I’d ruined too many pieces, he suggested that I might be better as a renderer’s apprentice, because no one cared what anything looked like once it got to the renderer. If I didn’t like that, he said, then being an armsman or lancer would be a good second choice.” Norgen took another mouthful of stew.
“He must have had quite a tongue.”
“He did. He was always too quick for me. So was my brother. Figured it was better for me to listen to orders and have a blade do the talking.”
“Are you from Valmurl?”
“No. I grew up in Nasloch. About a hundred kays south of Bruel, along the west coast. My brother’s still there, still making cabinets.”
“Do you ever go back?”
“No. My consort’s from Valmurl. Her family thinks what I do is honorable. Mine doesn’t.”
Kharl nodded.
“That nod says more than words.” Norgen stood. “I need to be getting back.” A faint smile appeared on his narrow face. “Anything you can do will be better than what’s going to happen otherwise. Good day, ser mage.”
Kharl sat for a time at the circular table, sipping the last of his ale.
XVII
Early on fourday, after his breakfast, Kharl walked to the study Hagen used and waited outside in the corridor for the lord-chancellor, who was expected soon.
A quarter glass passed without Hagen’s appearance, but Kharl continued to wait.
After a time, one of the guards-an older man-spoke. “They say the rebels have some wizards.”
“They do. From what I know, they still have two left.”
“Ah … are they pretty good, ser?”
Kharl caught the unspoken question behind the one asked. “They’re white wizards. Black and white are different. White is better for attacking. Black is usually better at defending.”
“You think that’s why they haven’t attacked the Great House? Except that one time?”
“It might be. I wouldn′t wish to guess,” Kharl said with a laugh. “That’s something the lord-chancellor and Commander Norgen would know better than I would.”
The guard closed his mouth as Hagen turned the corner at the end of the corridor.
Kharl waited until the lord-chancellor was within a few cubits. “Good morning, ser.”
“Good morning, ser mage. I take it that you’re better?”
“So it would seem. I would like a few moments if you can spare them.”
“For you, I can always spare a few moments. This morning, those moments may have to be fewer, unfortunately.” Hagen opened the study door, leaving it open for Kharl.
The mage closed it after he followed Hagen into the chamber.
“I am glad to see that you are recovered.” Hagen settled into chair behind the table desk.
“So am I.”
“What did you have in mind? You’re not one for idle talk,” Hagen observed.
“Who are the best leaders left among the rebel lords?”
“Hensolas is probably better at tactics and strategy, but Fergyn is better at inspiring officers and troops.”
“Do you have pictures or likenesses of them?”
“Ser Kharl …″ Hagen’s voice was even, almost flat.
“I’ve thought about this, lord-chancellor. I’ve thought about it a great deal. I am not that great a help against large forces.” Kharl offered a wry chuckle. “In fact, I’ve proved to be as great a danger to myself as to them. But there is another way … If the wizards and the rebel leaders cannot survive, neither can the revolt.”
“What you’re suggesting is a great risk for Lord Ghrant, and a greater risk for you.”
Kharl snorted. “Anything else is a greater risk. I know what I can do, and I know what I cannot. When Ilteron was threatening Lord Ghrant, you told me that if he did not win quickly, then he would lose support throughout Austra. Is not that the situation Lord Ghrant now faces?”
“It’s possible,” Hagen conceded.
“If this revolt is put down without the lives of many more armsmen being taken, whom will that benefit?”
“You are sounding more like an advocate than a mage,” replied Hagen, his voice containing a testy edge. “Yet you are suggesting government by murder.”
Kharl forced a laugh. “You murdered a hundred armsmen with cannon on the causeway. I have murdered a score or more through order-magery. What is the difference between one death and another?”
“Lords … are not treated that way.”
“Oh? Then it is good-or acceptable-to kill mere armsmen, who have no choice and who never had much of a say in matters, but it is wrong to kill the leaders who created the problem and have already sent hundreds to their deaths?”
Hagen did not answer.
“Will the armsmen serving the rebels be more likely to be supportive of a ruler who butchers them and their mates or one who removes their leadersand demands their allegiance?” Kharl snorted. “More to the point … how long will it take to subdue this rebellion by force of arms? Can it be done?”
“Can what you propose be done?” countered Hagen.
“Who knows? But I cannot do more to slaughter large numbers of armsmen. So what do you and Lord Ghrant have to lose by letting me try?”
“We could lose you.”
“I would personally dislike that a great deal, but if I cannot be useful to you and Lord Ghrant, I do not see a great loss for either of you.”